


Come Here, Dressed in Black Now...

by CharWright5



Series: HQ Halloweek 2018 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Anal Sex, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Costume Kink, Established Relationship, Haikyuu Halloweek 2018, Jealousy, M/M, Make up sex, Regular Human Oikawa, Rough Sex, Superhero Iwa-chan, Top Iwaizumi Hajime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 09:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5
Summary: Oikawa doesn't appreciate having his plans ruined by his boyfriend skipping out on their dinner, even if his excuse of being the city's lone superhero and being busy fighting crime is a legitimate one.





	Come Here, Dressed in Black Now...

**Author's Note:**

> For Day Four of HQ Halloweek: ~~Horror Movies~~ / Superheroes / Costumes
> 
> Iwa-chan's costume based on Tyler Hoechlin's new black Superman suit (please google if you haven't seen, it's worth it, holy shit!)
> 
> Title from _So It Goes..._ by Taylor Swift.

It wasn't that Oikawa ever got _jealous_. He had no reason to. After all, he was incredibly good looking, had a great job, had plenty money and if he was ever short, he could ask his parents for some. Not to mention he was an incredibly popular guy with tons of terrific friends and the most handsome, muscular, amazing, incredible boyfriend on the planet.

Which... okay, there was a problem there.

It wasn't that Oikawa was jealous of Iwa-chan himself. Why should he be? Yes, Iwa-chan was attractive but Oikawa was even more so. Yes, he had muscles, but Oikawa had no need to be all big and bulked up. Yes, his job was more freelance so he could set his own schedule, but Oikawa liked the routine of his own occupation, not to mention the steady paycheck, the job security, and the ability to move up the corporate ladder.

Really, if he allowed himself to think about it, his biggest issue stemmed from how Iwa-chan spent his free time. They ran in the same circle of friends, true, part of having grown up together and being a package deal. And he knew Iwa-chan wasn't cheating or doing anything illicit behind his back. It was...well, Oikawa figured it was his activities that amounted to pretty much a second job.

Because Iwa-chan wasn't just a freelance photographer who mainly worked on his own stuff and sometimes took gigs at weddings or other important events. He also happened to be their city's resident superhero.

It was cheesy and ridiculous and something straight out of the mangas they used to read together as kids, yet it was their reality, Iwa-chan having been blessed with super strength, accelerated healing, superior senses, the ability to fly. It was something he'd been born with, something that had developed and gotten more powerful over the years, something that had to be hidden for fear he'd be experimented on or outcast. Oikawa was the only one outside of the Iwaizumi family who knew about it, trusted to guard this secret with his life. And he did, continued to do so, the secret expanding to include the fact that Iwa-chan was now using his abilities to help others. Under a pseudonym. In a typical spandex costume and mask.

While Oikawa was proud of his boyfriend's heroics, clipping and saving newspaper articles that mentioned him and stashing them in a secret scrapbook he hid under the bed, he wasn't all that fond of the fact that he couldn't boast out loud about the fact that the masked savior who'd performed that amazing feat the night before was also the man he was in a relationship with. Nor was he fond of the fact that this second job of his kept him out at all hours, mostly at night, sometimes during the day.

Oikawa knew it was necessary, that others needed Iwa-chan's help as much as he needed the man around him—possibly even more, but Oikawa would never admit that—yet he couldn't help but feel a little pissed that he was constantly ignored, that plans were scrapped at the last second, important events missed or left early during, dates forgotten about because he'd been too wrapped up in crime fighting. Oikawa was too much of an attention hog—and also incredibly needy and high maintenance—to be okay with letting Iwa-chan ignore him for too long or continue to bail on things—if he even showed up for them at all.

Like that night, which was supposed to be a make-up dinner for missing their anniversary, a nice meal at home that Oikawa had actually _cooked_ for once in his life. The table had been set with the nicest dishware they owned, candles lit, romantic music playing.

And no Iwa-chan.

For several fucking hours.

It wasn't until the food was practically frozen and stashed in tupperwares for later and the candles had been halfway melted and blown out that he came literally breezing in, landing on their balcony in full costume, banging on the door Oikawa had locked in anger, curtains pulled closed over the glass. It was a long minute or two of banging and Iwa-chan pointing out that people would be able to see him and it would put Oikawa at risk, as well as a mention of how he could just smash his way through the door but was choosing to not get them in trouble with the apartment manager, that had the miffed one of the pair finally unlocking and sliding it open. He'd been practicing all night what he wanted to say, the angry words he'd let out, the exact phrasing and curses he'd use to get his point across before telling Iwa-chan he was sleeping on the couch that night. Only...

Only...

Only he totally blanked out as he stared at his costume-clad boyfriend, at the tight black fabric clinging to his every muscle, putting thick thighs and ripped abdominals and wide pectorals on perfect display. He might as well have been naked for all the good it did covering him, a second skin over his body, showing off every delineation of every muscle and...

Fuck, Oikawa was pretty sure he was drooling. He'd never get used to this sight, how incredibly hot his boyfriend was, the reminder of how strong he was. In every day life, he chose baggier things, slobbing around the apartment in old tees and sweats, wearing baggy jeans and button downs that were a size or two too big for him when he left. But when he was out playing hero, he needed to move better, freer, not to worry about if his baggy jeans were gonna prevent him from being able to kick as high as he needed to, if his too big tee was gonna get caught on something.

No, this was better. Both for Iwa-chan and for Oikawa.

A bouquet of roses was held in his hand, an apology, and as he stepped inside the apartment, closing the door and curtains over, he removed his mask to show the repentant look on his face. He apologized for missing the dinner, the date, promised to make it up once more, and Oikawa...

Oikawa was already weak for Iwa-chan, had been since they were young and he figured out what having a crush was and that what he felt for his best friend wasn't typical. The apology, the flowers, the fucking _costume_ , it was all too much, and he practically attacked his boyfriend with his mouth, insisting that he begin making it up at that moment.

Which was how he found himself with his legs and arms wrapped around Iwa-chan, his thick cock inside of his pre-prepped hole—which thank god he'd been hoping for the best and planned ahead on that one—the muscular man literally lifting him up and down as he fucked hard into him.

Oikawa wasn't sure if “muscle kink” was a thing but...

It probably was, actually. He most definitely had it either way though.

His hands grabbed hold of well-developed triceps, nails digging in but not doing a damn thing to the costume that had been specially made to withstand even the sharpest knife—also something to be grateful for, since it put Oikawa's mind at ease when his boyfriend was out there doing his thing. Oikawa's perfect manicure wasn't gonna damage it in anyway, something that allowed him to just _let go_ and scratch at his boyfriend as much as he wanted, as much as his subconscious mind desired.

Which was a lot, considering most of the time, post coital sessions were spent with Oikawa smirking at the claw marks all over Iwa-chan's broad back. Probably a good thing his healing was so fast. Not that Iwa-chan ever complained beyond a halfhearted scowl, which Oikawa always responded to with a big grin.

It was just the way their relationship had always worked.

And at that moment, things were working pretty damn good, Iwa-chan managing to drive in deep, filling Oikawa up in a way no one else could or had. Because with those thick thighs and thick chest came a thick cock, stretching the leaner male wide, forcing him to accommodate the girth of him. Even just entering had Oikawa gasping and groaning, eyes prickling with tears as he was stretched further than what his fingers had managed.

But fuck, he'd never get tired of it. Especially not when his boyfriend was also putting his powers on display, feet planted and legs spread for balance as he easily held up Oikawa's seventy-two kilograms as though it was seventy-two milligrams instead. His hips moved smoothly, easily, and he barely strained as he also moved Oikawa up and down his cock, pounding into him. It was rough but cathartic, Oikawa able to get out the emotions that had been welling inside of him all evening: anger at being ditched, worry over something happening to Iwa-chan out there, jealousy that he wasn't able to monopolize his boyfriend's time, frustration that he was so very out of control of the whole thing, agitation at being unable to change anything regarding how the evening had went down.

So he rode it out on his boyfriend's cock, bit at his neck knowing it would be covered by his costume, clawed at his arms, at his back under the cape, pulled his hair, kissed him so hard he nearly knocked out one of his own teeth out and cut Iwa-chan's bottom lip.

And Iwa-chan gave it just as fiercely back, kissed him like a claim, like he was grateful to be alive and returning to this, like he knew he had earned that forgiveness this time but next time may not be as lucky so he needed to take advantage. He took everything Oikawa gave him, hissed it pain at teeth pressing into his neck, groaned at the sting of his hair being pulled out, but never complained or objected or tried to get him to stop. Took it, enjoyed it, relished it even.

Maybe there was some form of self-flagellation at work, Oikawa considered, Iwa-chan repenting from his mistake by allowing the rough treatment and taking it as punishment. He'd figure it out later, when he wasn't so damn worked up, when Iwa-chan's cock wasn't driving right into his prostate at the most perfect angle, when the muscular man wasn't wrapping one arm around his lower back, the other around his dick and stroking it in well-practiced motions. He cried out his boyfriend's name, gasping, back arching and trusting that he'd be caught.

Because despite it all, no matter what ever happened between the two of them, he knew Iwa-chan would always catch him, would always be there if he fell.

And with the thumb swiping the head of his cock, Oikawa felt himself let go, head falling back as well while he screamed out in pleasure, squeezing around the hard length still driving inside of him. Iwa-chan followed him off the precipice only a few thrusts later, hauling him in close and holding him in a fierce embrace that was returned. The two clung to one another, panting, shaking, relieved everything was okay in their little world—for the moment at least. They'd weathered this storm, just like they'd weathered the ones before and would weather all future ones.

And as Oikawa drew his boyfriend into a tender kiss, feeling the unique material of his costume beneath his hands, he couldn't bring himself to be mad at Iwa-chan's second job, not when it meant he helped so many in need, not when he returned to Oikawa at the end of it all.


End file.
